My name is “NO”
On mommy’s agenda for me today:
- getting dressed
- going to school
- eating dinner
- bath
- bedtime.
Um, no. I will not be doing any of that. At least, not with any discernible amount of ease.
GETTING DRESSED
I know that I wear the same uniform every day, and most days I’m cool with it. But today, I don’t know… I’m just feeling like it’s a pyjamas-to-school-type day. No, not these pyjamas on my body, Dunderklumpen. I want to wear the pyjamas at the bottom of my dirty laundry hamper.
Why?
Because they’re friggin’ COOL. You might not remember what cool feels like because your fashion criteria is whether or not your leggings roll down and you think musical ingenuity ended in the 80’s.
I don’t give a rat’s a** what the weather is outside. I will wear the exact opposite. I will also wear my pants and/or shirt backwards because I am expressing myself. I am an individual who will not live under your Reich of conformity. I also have first rights of refusal regarding outerwear. You can be sure I will complain about being cold and that my pants are falling down. Because, individual.
GOING TO SCHOOL
Give me the keys, please. You know the drill. I press the buttons to open all the doors (yes, even the trunk). You may have them back once I’ve shut all the doors and locked everyone inside. Just because you drive like Hunter S. Thompson on a bender doesn’t mean we all have a death wish. I’m concerned about safety.
You’re welcome.
(After school)
So, about today. I may or may not have licked my friend’s face at lunch. I was pretending to be a puppy. You know, a small, warm, furry pile of love that I want more than the very oxygen I breathe but you say we can’t have because you have “allergies” and basically don’t care about my happiness?
Also, the teacher got a bit annoyed because for the fourth time this week, I brought in a piece of paper with random letters typed on it for show-and-tell, which apparently only happens on Mondays. Pfft. They’ll all regret not basking in my genius and technical prowess. I know how to use a computer. I am the future.
EATING DINNER
It smells nice in here! No doubt some healthy concoction of proteins, carbs and veggies. Chicken? Isn’t that the animal on my Fisher Price See ‘N Say farm toy? Are you suggesting that I eat the cute, smiling cartoon animal? Everywhere a tsk tsk. You say I like chicken? Come on poo monkey, chicken is so five seconds ago.
Unless it’s nuggets. I like those.
Besides, chicken nuggets aren’t really chicken, that’s just a name, like eggplant or…soup. You’re a dummy.
(Ten minutes after dinner is finished.)
I want macaroni. I want MACARONI. I WA-A-A-A-A-A-ANT MACARONI!!
What the hell is wrong with you? I HATE macaroni! I want cookies!
BATHROOM BREAK (Not on the list but the four year old is nothing if not flexible when it comes to routine and schedule. Sorry, I tried to keep a straight face.)
I don’t have to wash my hands after I use the toilet, because I never touched my thingie and I even wiped up the floor pee with your face towel so I never touched anything. Besides, I washed my hands two days ago, so they’re practically like new. I have bacteria on my hands? That sounds like a word you made up. I’mma smell my fingers and very likely put them in my mouth. Just to be sure.
BATH
A bath? Sure, I’m down with a bath. Here is my list of demands:
a) I get into the tub first. I don’t care if the baby gets undressed faster and has to stand there while I spend the next 10 minutes running around naked screaming “I have a penis!” I don’t care if the bathwater goes tepid. If anyone starts bathing before I get into the bath, my head will explode and you will have to clean it up and you’ll be sorry.
b) I am in charge of putting all the tub toys into the tub.
Every. Single. One.
c) I will not be washing my hair. I washed it last week and it’s fine. If you come at me with the shampoo I will literally flip my s**t and try to drown you. The baby, however, looks dirty and needs a shampoo. I will conduct the rinsing. I’m holding him under to rinse out the shampoo. This is called rinsing. He’s rinsed when he starts to panic a little. Can you please tell him not to be such a big baby?
BEDTIME
I want 2 books. No wait, 5 books. No wait, I’ll just pile up all the books. Wait, I don’t want to read a story anymore. I want to play with the Gro Clock. What do you mean I broke it? I just took off the back panel to see what the buttons did. What shoddy manufacturing! I have a curious mind, I’m thirsty for knowledge! Speaking of thirsty, I want a drink. I know very well that “bedtime” is what you call the bottle of red stuff on the counter. Before you get to the bottom of your “bottle of feigned happiness and forgotten dreams”, where’s my drink? I want water in a cup with a lid, but just to make things interesting, I have no intention of telling you which cup I want, and will only yell “no” at each selection until your eye starts twitching. Then I’ll get bored of the game. Also, I’m laughing at you because I’m not even thirsty.
(Two hours later)
By the way, even asleep I know you’re crazy about me. See you tomorrow.
Love, the Despot.
